


For Tomorrow We Die

by Ryuutchi



Category: Gideon the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Let Gideon Fucc, Missing Scene, No penetration, Shameless Smut, missing sex scene, obtuse beefalo x no titty goth gf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/pseuds/Ryuutchi
Summary: The Lyctor Tests are coming along swimmingly;orcompletely pointless smut set in that thin wedge of time between harrowhark spilling everything to gideon in the swimming pool and when they went to sleep that night
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 7
Kudos: 180
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	For Tomorrow We Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirazi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirazi/gifts).



> Thanks to Zeb for suggesting at least two of these bad puns and for listening to me read and reread bits of Gideon out loud since the week it was released.
> 
> Also thanks to my roommates for letting me whine about sex scene choreography.
> 
> _This story takes place after the heart-to-heart in the pool and before they go to sleep because that is literally the only point in the novel where they can fuck in peace._

“Shut up and let me do this,” Gideon mumbled, climbing into Harrow’s bed. They were both on edge enough after the messy emotional conversation-- not to mention the last 24 hours, and the several days before _that_. Even after a decent sonic shower and as much alone time as she could manage, Gideon honestly felt like she was about to shake right the fuck out of her skin. Harrowhark’s bed was slightly bigger and also much warmer then the cavalier’s bed, mainly by dint of having another living person in it. Harrow kicked at Gideon’s shin but the motion had no strength to it and she scooted over to make room, which was almost as good as an invitation.

“Fine,” said Harrow, “but you go back to your own bed to sleep. I refuse to be crushed beneath your insensate bulk.” The thin fabric of her nightdress was pulled taut against her body as she moved, showing off her slight figure. 

Gideon blinked away the sudden thought _I bet she’d let me--_ to find she’d lifted her hand. Harrow was frowning again, a thin line drawn between her brows and Gideon gave into her impulses. She brushed her thumb to the tense muscle and it was startling, somehow, to feel the soft, warm skin against her fingertips. As though Harrow might have turned into a ghost in between blinks. 

Harrow shook her off and sighed. “Whatever you’re thinking, Nav, I’m not in the mood.” And yet she didn’t move away when Gideon settled down into the bed, arm resting on the pillow above Harrow’s head in what could have been an embrace if either of them could suck it up and breach the narrow gap between them. So Gideon kicked herself in the mental ass, sucked it up and let herself settle further onto the bed. One thigh pressed against Harrow’s slender hip, the heat of their bodies like a brand after the chill of the rest of the afternoon. Her free hand rested-- more tentatively than Gideon had ever touched anything in her life-- on the inconsiderable curve of Harrow’s waist. 

The smaller woman sucked in a breath, looking up at Gideon with the hooded gaze of a cobra. “Griddle,” she said slowly, and the register of her voice did something to Gideon’s insides.

“We might all die. Maybe you’ll die, maybe I will-- I don’t know and I really want to not think about it for the next nine hours. So let me just fucking do this. Don’t make me die a virgin, Nonagesimus.” Gideon smiled her most charmingly smarmy smile and felt a small bloom of satisfaction when Harrow’s ears went the slightest bit pink. 

“It would serve you right,” her necromancer said, but she didn’t stop Gideon’s hand from crawling under her dress. She slid one bird-boned hand into Gideon’s damp hair and tugged gently, experimentally. Gideon huffed a breath through her nose at the flare of heat that caused and the corners of Harrow’s lips twitched. She took a deep breath in, watching Gideon with an unreadable look, then reached down and pulled her nightdress off, tossing it quicky to the foot of the bed as though if she held it for much longer she’d change her mind.

Gideon made a sound that she hadn’t known she could make, taking in Harrow’s body in a way that she never had before. Before, when they were drying off, Harrow had looked a bit like a drowned rodent, narrow and awkward and vulnerable. Now she looked at Gideon with false courage and something else, something much more real, in her eyes. Like most necromancers she was small and thin, the power she wielded working off what little sustenance she remembered to give herself, so Harrow looked little like the big-titted cohorts that usually graced Gideon’s fantasies. Her breasts were small, capped with pert brown nipples that Gideon immediately gave into the impulse to touch. Harrow jumped at the sensation, tensing momentarily. 

Gideon kept the contact gentle, running her thumb over one nipple. It tightened beneath her touch and Harrow’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle a sound. Oh. Oh, that was good. Gideon swallowed back a smile and repeated the gesture on her other breast and Harrow bit her knuckle. Gideon took her time-- Harrow’s body was slight, especially compared to Gideon’s muscular frame, but Gideon wanted to know every centimeter of it. She trailed sword-calloused fingers over the tender skin just beneath Harrow’s breasts and cupped the small handfuls of sensitive flesh with her palms. One of her broad hands was big enough to enclose the whole mound, and she squeezed gently, savoring the silken softness. Touching Harrow felt luxurious, and she couldn't help trailing her fingertips over the tips of Harrow's nipples again and again until they tightened up. She took her time, waiting for the moment when Harrowhark would tell her to stop but that moment didn’t come. Instead, she was biting her lower lip and tensing as though she couldn't quite decide whether to arch up into the barely-there touches. Gideon traced her hands down Harrow's abdomen and up again, watching with fascination the way shadows shifted with the movement of muscle and ribs. Gideon slid her hands down Harrow’s sides. She didn’t have to press down hard to count Harrow’s ribs. Gideon had never realized quite how small her necromancer was before, maybe because Harrow was always in the voluminous robes. But out of them, under Gideon’s broad hands she looked almost delicate. Gideon could almost span Harrow's waist with her two hands-- she wrapped her fingers around Harrow's waist to check and then, liking the way Harrow gasped and dropped her hand into Gideon's hair, held Harrow down with a fraction of her strength. No, Harrow didn't have the spun-sugar fragile of Dulcinea Septimus. She was delicate the way a fine filigreed rapier might be delicate. It made Gideon catch her breath and bite the inside of her cheek with the strange desire to kiss Harrow’s pale lips. 

Instead of giving in to that bizarre whim, Gideon scooted down the bed, waving a hand at Harrow’s questioning look. “Let me get into the right position,” Gideon said, trying to remember how the dirty mags usually went from here. She pressed a thigh between Harrow’s legs and after a moment of consideration Harrow let her, parting her legs to let Gideon slide between them.

Gideon skimmed her hands over Harrow’s breasts, letting the roughness of her palms drag over Harrow’s nipples and Harrow didn’t swallow her moan in time. Gideon grinned against Harrow’s clavicle and accepted a light tug on her hair in return. She turned her attention to kissing all the places she touched and touching as much of Harrow as she could manage. Gideon’s fingers smoothed down Harrow’s chest and hips, petting her thighs and kissing at odd intervals. Parting Harrow’s legs a little wider, Gideon couldn’t help making an appreciative noise that immediately embarrassed her. 

Harrow smelled so fucking good, though, who would have guessed it? Shaking the thought off quickly so Harrow wouldn’t notice the momentary pause, Gideon slotted herself between her legs, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Harrow’s inner thigh. Beneath her hands, the muscles of Harrow’s thighs tensed and twitched so Gideon bit down, a sharp little nip followed by a soothing lick that had Harrow crying out.

She tugged on Gideon’s hair a little too roughly to be comfortable. “Don’t just entertain yourself,” she snapped.

“Yes, my midnight mistress,” Gideon said, leaning her cheek against Harrow’s thigh. It was very smooth and she rubbed her face against it like a cat.

Harrow tried to kick out, but Gideon was leaning on her legs. “I’ve had enough of your lip,” she said.

“But not enough of my tongue, right?” Harrow tugged her hair again, harder, and Gideon winced. “Alright already, stop.” Somehow she was smiling as she leaned back in, kissing the spot she’d bitten in apology and then up higher, pressing her lips to the softly-furred lips of Harrow’s vulva. Despite their impromptu salt-water bath and less impromptu showers, this part of Harrow still smelled musky and rich. She breathed through her nose in appreciation before parting Harrow’s lips and giving the soft pinkness an experimental lick. It didn’t taste bad, slightly salty and a little bit bitter. Different from Gideon’s own taste on those times she’d given her fingers experimental licks in the dark, heavier on her tongue than her own taste had been. But maybe that was because she was already surrounded by it. Or maybe it was the way that Harrow’s hips arched beneath her immediately and the stifled gasp that came with the motion. Either way, it didn’t take long for Gideon to lose herself giving Harrow broad licks that had the necromancer tangling her fingers in Gideon’s hair. The little jolts of sensation felt as though Harrow was trying to ride her like a horse, pulling her this way and that. Gideon indulged her sepulchral lady for a little while, varying the tempo of sucking and licks the way she would test out a new dueling partner, trying out strategies. 

She wrapped her mouth around the nub of Harrow’s clit and sucked, a little mean. Harrow wailed sharply, her legs kicking up to wrap around Gideon’s shoulders and Gideon couldn't help but take advantage. She pet the inside of Harrow’s thighs, rubbing calloused thumbs in the sensitive join of her hips to hold her lady still while she took her time lavishing Harrow’s clit and pussy with attention. She could hear Harrow cursing her but it was nothing she hadn’t heard before and Harrow wasn’t actually telling her to stop, just keeping up an embarrassed and only slightly-slurred litany of curses on Gideon’s bloodline for nothing in particular. Gideon rubbed a circle in Harrow’s hip and the words stumbled a bit, so Gideon did it again, pairing it with a nice long lick that pressed at Harrow’s opening.

“Oh, oh god, oh--“ Harrow’s words stuttered in a way that Gideon wanted to engrave onto her heart.

She pulled up, licking her lips with a satisfied smile. “Yes?”

“Don’t be blasphemous, Griddle.” Harrow dug her heel into Gideon’s upper rib, none too gently, and Gideon grunted. 

“I’ve got my face next to your sensitive bits. You could consider being a little nicer,” Gideon said. Her necromancer kicked her again. No respect. But Gideon did as she was bid and settled herself right back down to kiss Harrow’s clit and ride the roll of her hips up. She found herself getting lost in the rhythm of Harrow’s body, the way her thighs tightened and ass clenched under Gideon’s exploring hands. After the day they’d had, maybe it was alright to let herself sink into the heavy scent and just stop thinking at all.

Harrow’s clever hands directed her attention this way and that, and Gideon let it. She remembered, in the vague way someone who really didn't care about the information except as fodder for bad puns, that _cavalier_ had something to do with horses. She made a mental note to tease Harrow later, when they weren't so preoccupied. She hummed and licked a stripe up the soft folds, smiling to herself when Harrow clenched her hands harder and jerked. With Harrow's thighs up around her ears, and small hands in her hair, when her tongue started to get tired, Gideon could let Harrow call the shots. Gideon’s hands slid down to stroke between Harrow’s legs. She squeezed the curve of Harrow's ass, small enough that it fit comfortably in her palms. Harrow made a sound that Gideon could only term a 'whine' and tugged again, drawing Gideon's attention back to the way Harrow's clit grew a little when she sucked on it. She gave in, returning to devouring her necromancer. Even as she let herself get rougher, tongue pushing its way slowly inside Harrow, she soothed the pad of her thumb down the crease of Harrow's ass, spreading the cheeks just a bit. Harrow clenched suddenly, a high, sharp sound coming from her throat. Her legs tensed around Gideon’s shoulders and Gideon’s tongue moved slowly, letting Harrow ride the wave of pleasure as it rolled up her body.

After a few moments, the tension began to seep out of Harrow’s muscles again, leaving her limp and rung out, still squirming slightly as Gideon licked her to overstimulation. “Enough, eno-- you can stop,” she said, and Gideon sat up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand although that mostly just smeared the mess. “Ugh, look at you. You look horrid.” But Harrowhark was flushed a violent red and couldn’t seem to move her limbs, so Gideon didn’t take it to heart.

Gideon considered taking herself in hand or asking Harrow to reciprocate, but in all honesty she didn’t want much else. Her body was too tired, too wrung out from adrenaline and emotion to stir more than half-heartedly. Instead, she reached down to grab Harrow’s nightdress and scrubbed her face. Harrow made a predictably disgusted sound which Gideon, just as predictably, ignored. She lay herself back out on the bed, stretched to her full length. She tucked her arm above Harrow’s head again but this time let her other arm rest with something like ease on Harrow’s hip. 

And this time Harrow let her. Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter and blah blah blah all that aloof shit which that entailed, curled herself against Gideon Nav’s chest, and they lay there for a while in something very like comfort.


End file.
